Quis Custodiet
by R. Seldon
Summary: Post-Game, Shibuya's Composer is faced with the fact that even His power is not absolute. Neku, despite his best efforts, gets stuck in the middle of it. Warning: Spoilers.
1. see you there

Disclaimer: _The World Ends With You _is the property of Square Enix; all characters (and occasional quotes from the game) are used here without permission.

A/N: I shouldn't be doing this. I should be studying for exams. And finishing the next chapter of _Lost Ground._

And yet, here I am.

Oh well.

* * *

_-one: see you there-_

* * *

_"Same streets. Same crowds, too. Yeah, Shibuya hasn't changed a bit. _

_"But still… I don't think I can forgive you yet. You don't see it, but those few weeks were very hard for me. Learning to trust people. Having that trust broken._

_"Trust your partner. And I do. I -- can't _forgive _you -- but I trust you. You took care of things, right? Otherwise Shibuya would be gone, and my world with it._

_"Hey. Did I mention? I've got _friends _now. I'm going to see them for the first time in a week._

_"…See you there?"_

It had been strange, talking quietly to thin air, speaking words he once -- a few weeks and a lifetime ago -- would not have believed would ever come out of his mouth. Strange, and more than a little awkward; Neku had spent years keeping things so tightly bottled up that he barely knew how to describe his thoughts and feelings to himself, much less to another person. And least of all to a total stranger who might or might not be listening, and who might or might not even care.

But he had turned the words over and over and over in his head for a week, and they had needed to be spoken aloud, gotten out of his mind. So at last he had said them, on the assumption that the one for whom they were intended would probably hear, if he wanted to. And even if he didn't, at least they would have been said. Neku sincerely doubted that he would receive any sort of response, even if anyone _had _listened, but he was surprised to realise, as he headed across Scramble Crossing towards Hachiko, how much better the brief speech had made him feel.

A tad weird for talking to himself, granted, but better nonetheless… and weird, against the Alice-in-Wonderland backdrop of the last month, scarcely stood out at all.

* * *

And now it was later. The afternoon had been bright and sunny and beautiful, full of laughter -- but it had worn on, as afternoons do, and eventually everyone had gone their separate ways. Left to his own devices, Neku found himself wandering along Shibuya's streets until he came back to Scramble Crossing. A little ruefully, he grinned to himself. _Whatever I do, I seem to keep ending up here, don't I? _

He had intended to head for home, but his feet appeared to have picked up minds of their own, and they carried him on a meandering route through the busy crossing until, once again, he was looking upon Hachiko's plaza. It was a nice evening, really; too nice, he decided, to head straight home. He'd go over to Sunshine Stationside, get himself a burger, sit and eat and watch the world go by for a little while. _Then _home.

The line at Sunshine wasn't too bad, and a few minutes later he was back outside, sitting on the low wall that ran around Hachiko's statue. He did not take much notice of it when someone else sat down a short distance away; he was busy enjoying the cool evening breeze on his face, and -- somewhat to his own horror, when he realised he was doing it -- amusing himself by trying to guess the brands of clothing that various passersby were wearing.

More horrifying was the realisation that he actually _recognised _a lot of the individual items, and knew not only the brands but exactly what the styles were called, and where they could be found in their respective stores. And roughly how much they cost.

He shook his head, blinking a few times. _Okay. I spent _waaay _too much time in the Reapers' Game. I think we've established this, thanks. _This was followed a few seconds later, however, by a wry, _Still, you've gotta admit that's kind of impressive, in a… _very_… disturbing way. Shiki would probably be proud._

Seeking to distract himself, he unwrapped the burger he'd bought, took a large bite, and nearly choked to death when, at a distance of roughly two feet from his ear, a light, familiar voice spoke in chiding tones:

"You know, Neku, it isn't very polite of you to say "See you there", and then just wander off to have ramen without me. And then -- when I've taken time out of a _very _busy schedule, mind you, to come and visit -- you come back and don't even bother to say hello. If I didn't know better, I might think you were ignoring me."

There was a pause, and then, "Neku, you're drawing some rather alarmed looks from the crowd. Am I going to have to call a doctor, here? I'm not really familiar with first aid. It isn't generally something I'm called upon to do, you realise." The voice grew thoughtful. "I did take a class, once, but the only thing I really remember is how to do mouth-to-mo--"

Joshua Kiryu, also known as the more-or-less all-powerful Composer of Shibuya, stopped in midword as Neku's hand shot up and seized his collar. "If you--" the orange-haired boy wheezed between bursts of coughing, "even -- _think _-- about finishing that sentence…"

"Oh, look, you _can _breathe. Good." Looking down, Joshua cautiously set about prying Neku's hand loose from his shirt. "I was only going to say," he added mildly, "that that isn't what you're supposed to do when someone's choking, anyway, so I doubt I'd be much help. Although, of course, in _your _case I expect medical intervention would scarcely matter -- death should hold no fears by now, hmm? Run a few missions, fight a few Noise, and you'd be back on your feet in no time."

Neku, temporarily unable to speak, gave his erstwhile partner a sour glare. At last the coughing fit died down, and he said, weakly, "Joshua."

"Quick on the uptake as ever, Neku." Joshua flashed him a friendly smile. "Good to see a few days away from the Game haven't harmed your lightning-quick reflexes."

"Yeah, yeah, hello to you too," Neku mumbled, and sat back, eyeing the other boy warily. "What're you doing here?"

"You _did _invite me, Neku," Joshua reminded him reproachfully. "More or less. My apologies for being late, of course, but I thought I'd best wait until your friends had gone home." A teasing grin lit his face. "They only met me _very _briefly, and under the circumstances I doubt they would remember me as fondly as you do."

"Fond," Neku muttered under his breath, "is not really the word."

"Affectionate, then," Joshua suggested, and Neku glowered at him.

"Remind me, again, why I invited you here?"

Joshua's brows rose. "Haven't the faintest. I could only assume you couldn't bear to go another day without looking upon the face of your dear former partner." Again the grin, and the sidelong glance which Neku, during his second week in the Reapers' Game, had quickly learned to dread. "And who am I to deny you?"

Neku shook his head. "Josh, whatever it is you're on, remind me never to try the stuff. Ever. It's clearly made you delusional." One hand rose, massaging his temples for a moment; how soon he'd forgotten, he thought ruefully, the speed with which Joshua's presence tended to give him a headache. "Seriously, why _are _you here? I'd've thought Shibuya's Composer would have more important things to do with his evenings than hang out by Hachiko and watch the world go by. Particularly after everything that _happened _in the last month. I mean -- shouldn't you be busy --" He waved a hand vaguely. "Making sure all those red skull pins are gone, or something?"

Joshua's smile faded. "So you've invited me here just to tell me to get back to work? That's not very nice. Anyway," he added, "the last month, as far as the RG is concerned, never happened. _Really_, Neku, I thought even you would have worked that out by now. You should pay better attention."

Neku ignored the note of condescension in the other boy's voice, and said, quietly, "It's that simple? You just -- what, snap your fingers, and it's all undone? Your damn Conductor brainwashed the entire _city._"

Joshua gave a dismissive shrug. "Which put everyone in a very… _susceptible _mental state. I could have managed anyway, of course, but the fact is that Megumi's tactic made it all the easier to put everything back. All I really had to do was tell people 'this never happened,' and their own minds practically rushed to fill in the blanks." He laughed lightly, but his expression grew pensive as he conceded, "Although I'll admit there was a bit more to it than snapping my fingers. You were right about one thing; there are… other places I need to be. I can't stay long."

Neku watched him cautiously. "So why are you here at all?"

"Oh, well, it was such a heartfelt and enthusiastic invitation from you, how could I resist?"

Neku snorted. "Right."

They sat and watched the crowds in silence for a moment, Neku's mind strangely blank. A day ago, even a few hours ago, his head had been full of questions he wanted to ask the boy now sitting next to him. Now that he thought about it, though, most of them boiled down to a simple and embarrassingly plaintive _Why?_ There were, admittedly, a few exceptions to that, but they could basically be summed up with the addition of: _And what the fuck is wrong with you, anyway?_

In the face of Joshua's actual presence, the chances of getting a straight answer to either of the above questions, however carefully he might phrase them, suddenly seemed laughable. And anyway, what were you supposed to say to someone who had killed you, made your afterlife hell for three weeks, killed you _again,_ and then returned you to life and put everything back exactly as it had been -- only… much, much better -- with never a word of explanation?

Put like that, he wasn't sure there was much that could be said.

Joshua spoke up suddenly, clearly oblivious to the confusion his appearance had caused. "Sanae says to say hello."

"Huh?" Neku had to think for a moment before he realised who Joshua was talking about; it was odd hearing him call the man by his first name. "…Oh. Mr. H?" _Now, _there's _somebody I've got questions for. _"How's he doing? We -- Shiki and Beat and Rhyme and me -- tried to stop by WildKat earlier, but it was closed."

"Mm, well, things have been a little busy in the last week, and Minamimoto did trash the shop pretty thoroughly. He hasn't really had a chance to get it cleaned up yet."

"I thought the last month never happened," Neku said shortly. "You fixed everything else; you couldn't have fixed the café up, too?"

"I could have," Joshua said in faintly irritated tones. "But he insists he'll do it himself. Says it'll muck up the coffee if I start messing around with the place -- which I've told him makes no sense, but he won't be budged."

Neku grinned at that, glad to hear that there was one small corner of Shibuya, at least, with which Joshua had not been allowed to have his way. It had been pretty clear that the WildKat Café was Sanae Hanekoma's pride and joy, although the man seemed to regard customers as a sort of optional extra in the whole undertaking. "Well, tell him I said hello back."

"Tell him yourself," Joshua said, nodding at something to the other side of Neku. "He's sitting on the wall right over there."

Neku spun, but the wall was empty, and he ground his teeth as Joshua chuckled at the reaction. "In the UG, I take it?"

"Where else?"

"Uh--" Neku grimaced, trying not to feel slightly injured by the fact that the man he'd so recently discovered to be his idol, the artist CAT, had not bothered to show his face in the Realground.

"He's sorry he can't be _here_," Joshua added, as if reading Neku's thoughts, "but the last week has been a tad… interesting, in the Underground, and he's decided to be boring and follow the rules for a while." That last was accompanied by a level glare at the empty patch of wall. "I think he's mostly come along as a sort of chaperon, to make sure I don't go on another shooting spree. _If _you call two shots a spree; personally, I hardly think it qualifies -- oh, don't look at me like that, Neku," he added crossly, for Neku, despite himself, had gone a little pale at the offhand remark. "I don't even have my gun."

"Gee, how… almost… sane of you," Neku bit out.

"I do have my moments, Neku. Anyway," Joshua added carelessly, "it was a clean shot -- you should count yourself lucky, really." He held up a hand, pointed at Neku's head, and pulled an invisible trigger; it took the orange-haired boy all of his self-control not to flinch as Joshua tapped him lightly on the forehead. "You barely had a chance to feel a thing. Well, the first time, at least."

Neku tried not to shudder at the memory which the words and motion had conjured. Not of pain -- loathe though he was to admit it, Joshua was right on that count -- but of freezing in place like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed by fear, as the world had spun and a peaceful afternoon had shattered around him. Aloud, he muttered, "You have a very strange idea of luck."

Joshua gave him a faint, knowing smile. "And you have a very strange idea of who to trust."

Neku's face reddened slightly, and he looked away. "You heard that too, huh?"

"You _were _talking to me, Neku," Joshua chided, laughing softly. "It would have been rude not to listen." He sighed. "Honestly, though, I do think you're making a bit too much of a fuss over the whole thing."

Neku almost spluttered at this. "A fuss? You _shot _me."

Joshua's sweeping gesture took in Hachiko's plaza and, by extension, most of Shibuya. "And you're so much worse off for it now."

"In the _head._"

This received a strange, almost pitying look. "And? As I said, at least it was quick. There are worse ways to die. I do know these things, Neku." The smile twisted. "_Trust _me on this."

"_Twice._"

"The second time," Joshua said, suddenly cold, "doesn't count. I offered you a chance. It's not my fault, Neku, if you chose not to take it. I do hope you haven't called me here just to rehash this rather tired subject?"

Neku stared fixedly across the plaza for a few seconds before saying, sullenly, "You're the one who keeps bringing it up."

Joshua shrugged. "And you're the one who can't let a reference to it pass."

"Pass?" Neku's voice rose. "How am I supposed to let it _pass?_ You _ki--_"

"Neku, dear, I'd turn the volume down a little on that next sentence, if I were you. This isn't the Underground, we aren't invisible, and we _are_ beginning to get some funny looks."

Neku started, glancing around guiltily as, with some effort, he swallowed the burst of anger. "…Right."

"There. Not so difficult, is it?"

"Josh, for once in your damn life--" Neku hesitated, and then amended, "Afterlife, Composer-hood, whatever -- will you quit screwing around? What are you really after, if things in the UG have gotten so bus--"

He stopped abruptly as something Joshua had said a minute or two earlier finally sank in. "Wait. Wait. What did you mean, Mr. H has decided to _follow_ _the_ _rules_? He's--" Neku swallowed uneasily. "He's not _allowed _to come to the RG? Why?"

Joshua paused for just a fraction of a second too long before commenting, mildly, "Well, will you look at that: someone was actually listening. I'm impressed, Neku."

"Hooray for you," Neku said flatly. "What's happened to Mr. Hanekoma?"

Joshua was silent for a moment before he leaned forward, rested his chin on his hands, and gave the fuming Neku an unusually solemn look. "Nothing's happened to him. He's fine. As I said, though, the situation in the Underground has gotten a bit--"

"--Interesting," Neku filled in when Joshua once again hesitated. "I heard you the first time. Joshua, remember, please, that I don't have a Player Pin any more -- I can't read minds. And even if I could, I'm really in no hurry to know what goes on in your head, even if you did let me see the whole picture for once. So just tell me: what, exactly, does 'interesting' _mean _in this context?"

"Hmm." Joshua appeared to be staring at something that Neku could not see -- which, Neku reflected, he probably was. At last he said, unconcernedly, "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I could get into a good deal of trouble for giving you the details. It isn't supposed to be the concern of the RG."

_So why did you _mention _it? _Neku's eyes narrowed. _I will not strangle him. I will not strangle him. I will not-- _"Okay. So now that you've got me _really _worried -- which I'm sure wasn't your intention with that line at all -- look, I just want to know why Mr. H is stuck in the UG. I mean, he's _C_--" Neku stopped himself, remembering just in time that in the Realground, someone in the crowds might actually hear him -- and care -- if he said something like that. "He's… got a life here." A belated and horrible thought occurred to him. "He _has _got a life here, hasn't he? He didn't d--"

Joshua waved a hand, brushing this sudden suspicion away, and Neku let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "No, no. It's nothing like that, Neku. I told you, he's fine. There are just some rather tedious formalities we've been forced to observe, temporarily, in the aftermath of my Game with Megumi. It's quite likely that everything will be sorted out soon."

"Uh-huh." Neku eyed him warily, and noted that _quite likely _was not the same thing as _definitely true_. "And all of that means _what, _exactly?"

Again the unsettling smile. "Oh, probably not much at all. Honestly, Neku, you _do _overreact to things, don't you? You're getting awfully worked up over nothing."

Neku ground his teeth. "If you would actually give me a straight answer for once, instead of hinting at th--"

He stopped. Joshua was no longer listening, if he ever had been; his head had snapped up, and he was watching the plaza's far exit -- the one which led down to the station, and to the Shibuya river -- with something like caution evident in his violet eyes. Aloud, he said quietly, "Ah. Time for me to be going, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" Neku blinked at him. "Why? What's--"

Joshua shook his head as he hopped to his feet, taking a moment to straighten out his shirt and brush a few invisible specks of dirt off of his clothes. And then he turned back. "Well, goodbye, Neku." A peculiarly rueful grin lit his face, and he added, his tone as light as ever, "It was nice knowing you. Seriously."

"What? Hey, what the hell is _that _supposed to--"

--But Joshua was gone, and Neku was raising his voice to a patch of thin air.

* * *

Hanekoma's first words to the Composer, as the latter returned to his usual form in the Underground, were: "Gotta tell you, boss, a little tact, once in a while, would not kill you. Figuratively speaking."

The Composer shrugged, smiling, and did not respond to this. Instead he nodded at the far end of the plaza, and at the two dark-clad figures that stood there. "We've got company, I see."

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't spent quite so much time trying to get yourself hit upside the head -- seriously, boss, what was that?" Hanekoma raised a hand, mimicking Joshua's imaginary gunshot, and gave him a reproving look. "You were kind of asking for it. Phones can't look at life -- and death -- the same way you do, you know."

In his head, he heard Joshua's voice say, unrepentantly, _Yes, but it did what it was supposed to do. Very well, too._

Aloud, Shibuya's Composer said only, "Aww, but the look on his face--"

Hanekoma shook his head. "Yeah, well, there's a time and a place, boss." He did not dare to respond to the unspoken half of the message, not when they were being as closely observed as he knew they were. Joshua -- often to the chagrin of the higher planes -- had always had a knack for shielding his mental communications from the prying minds of eavesdroppers, even eavesdroppers far more powerful than he was. Hanekoma could manage that on a lower level, but from the beings presently watching them he would be able to keep few secrets.

"I suppose," the Composer muttered, in a sulky voice far more suited to the stubborn child Hanekoma had once known than to the radiant immortal who now watched over Shibuya. There were days when Hanekoma thought that Joshua had never really grown up at all, that something in him had just… stopped, at his death, despite what his soul had subsequently become.

The angel suspected, though, that Neku Sakuraba wasn't the only one who had learned a thing or two, over the past month, about being human. _Better late than never, I guess._ He just hoped like hell that those lessons weren't going to go to waste now.

The watchers had left their post at the far end of the plaza, were walking towards Hachiko. "Well," Hanekoma muttered, "here they come."

The Composer tilted his head to one side, watching the approaching figures curiously. "This should be… interesting."

Hanekoma snorted, and said under his breath, "Only you…" A little more loudly, he added, "Just… be good, all right, boss? Behave."

The Composer laughed. "When have I ever done otherwise?"

_This _is _going to be interesting, _Hanekoma thought ruefully. "Sir," he said carefully, in the vague hope that the minor formality might actually make his more-or-less-superior sit up and take notice. "I'm dead serious. We've been over this. These are not people to mess with. They're not too happy at the moment, and they're… well, they're tougher than you."

The Composer watched with a faint, fixed smile on his face as the figures drew closer. He said nothing -- but in Hanekoma's head, Joshua's voice spoke:

_We shall see, Sanae._

* * *

A/N: Reviews would be greatly appreciated!


	2. mixed messages

Disclaimer: _The World Ends With You _is the property of Square Enix; all characters have been borrowed without permission.

A/N: Many thanks to those who reviewed last chapter! Reviews make my day. :)

* * *

_-two: mixed messages-_

* * *

Neku quickly realised that shouting at the air was not going to have much effect, and so, in a far gloomier mood than he had been for most of the day -- or all week, for that matter -- he headed for home at last. He tried to finish his burger on the way, but found that he suddenly did not have much appetite, and so the remainder of the thing was eventually deposited in a trashcan along with his soda.

_"It was nice knowing you. Seriously." _

Right up until that point, Neku _might _have been able to convince himself that he really had been overreacting to Joshua's vague remarks about Mr. Hanekoma; that there really was just some sort of odd protocol the UG was expected to follow after a Game of such magnitude; that Joshua had only been cryptic out of habit, or to annoy.

But if Mr. H was following protocol, then whose protocol was he following? As far as Neku's limited understanding of the subject ran, inside Shibuya's boundaries the Composer had total control, and Joshua was Shibuya's Composer. But Joshua hadn't looked or sounded too happy about this one: _"He's decided to be boring and follow the rules."_

And as for Joshua himself, in the last few seconds before he'd vanished, he had looked… strange. Not exactly _worried -- _Neku wasn't sure he could even picture a worried Joshua --but definitely preoccupied, and Neku wondered what it was he had seen that had brought on the change in demeanour. _"There are… other places I need to be."_

Neku rubbed wearily at his forehead. If Joshua was in some sort of trouble, he reflected, then given that this was Joshua it was probably trouble of his own making. He'd get himself out of it, or not, but one way or the other it wasn't Neku's problem. Whatever was going on, it would be best by far not to get involved; Neku had just returned to life, and he wasn't in a hurry to get shot again.

If Mr. H was in some sort of trouble, though…

Neku stared up at the sky for a moment as he walked, remembering the day when the Reaper named Uzuki had tried to talk him into murdering Shiki. Ashamed as he was to admit it, she had nearly succeeded -- and would have done, if not for Mr. Hanekoma's timely intervention.

Neku didn't think he knew too many people who could have put Uzuki in her place without violence ultimately being involved. Her partner Kariya, yes, but largely because the two were clearly good friends -- and also, frankly, because Neku doubted that even Uzuki was _quite _stupid enough to pick a fight with Kariya. There was a difference between being bad-tempered and being suicidal.

By contrast, she hadn't known Sanae Hanekoma from a hole in the wall; she'd mistaken him for a Player, in fact. And yet in the space of a few minutes Mr. Hanekoma had sent her packing, and had barely raised his voice in the process.

Yeah. Neku still wasn't entirely clear on who or what the man really was, but Mr. H could probably take care of himself, if anyone could.

Still… Neku would have felt better about it if he'd just had someway to know what was actually going on in the UG. A part of him couldn't help laughing at that, a little bit -- _Figures. I spent three weeks trying to get out of the damn place, and now I'm annoyed because I'm not there? _-- but mostly the uncertainty of it was a dull, unpleasant weight in his stomach. _I'm home. This is supposed to be _over.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and his hand dove into his pocket to fish for his cell phone. Finding it, he snapped it open, scrolled through the list of calls received. There weren't many, and most of them had come from Shiki or Beat in the past week -- but Mr. H had called him once during the first week of the Game, to tell him that Beat had disappeared, and Neku's phone _might _have recorded the number.

Yup, there it was. Had to be the one; it was the only phone call Neku had received in the course of the three weeks. Calls between the RG and the UG probably wouldn't work, weren't _supposed _to work, but it had to be worth a shot.

_Beep. _"The number you have dialed does not exist. Please tr--"

He snapped the phone shut, muttered, "Of… course it doesn't," and stuffed the thing back in his pocket. Oh well. He'd had to try.

He reached his apartment a few minutes later. His parents, unsurprisingly, weren't there; a note on the door informed him that they might not be back until very late, and he found he was obscurely glad of that. He had begun the day in an uncommonly good mood, elated at the prospect of an afternoon with his friends, and right now he didn't feel up to explaining why that mood had vanished.

_Nothing much, Mom. Just, you know, had a chat with the ruler of Shibuya's afterlife, and he's really kind of an asshole. Also, he murdered me a month ago -- you, um, probably wouldn't remember that, though. I'm told that according to your reality it didn't happen._

Yeah… no.

He retreated to his room and slumped onto his bed, where he lay still and closed his eyes for a while. _It's been a long month. _

What was really bothering him, though, he decided eventually, was not the hazy intimation that all was not well in the UG. It was the fact that Joshua had felt inclined to hint darkly about it at _him. _

_I'm alive. I'm _home. _I have actual friends now, you realise that? We all went out for ramen today. And Rhyme kicked my butt at Tin Pin, and Beat showed off on his skateboard and told stupid jokes, and Shiki dragged me into 104 and spent an hour making me try on clothes. And in the entire afternoon, _nobody _tried to kill us, or take anything from us, or make us play twisted, _stupid _games with other people's souls on the line if we lost. _

_If you think you're pulling me back into that, forget it._

Which was all well and good to say within the confines of his head, he thought reluctantly, but against someone who had twice had no qualms about shooting him, he doubted it would have much effect.

It didn't help that in the depths of his head, he could hear Joshua's voice, laughing:

_Rethinking your trust in me so quickly, Neku?_

* * *

_He woke, to emptiness. Gray space stretched off in all directions, unbroken by any landmarks._

_He turned around slowly, staring, as fear crept over him. This -- this wasn't right. He was supposed to be in his room, in his apartment, in Shibuya. Home and safe. Not… whatever this was._

_His mouth dry, he called out, "Hello? Is anyone--"_

_"Ah, Mr. Sakuraba." _

_He spun, and found himself face to face with a tall, dark-clad figure. Beyond that, little description could be given; Neku had a vague and confused impression of beauty, of a cold sort, but the being's features were somehow indistinct. They were there, but he could not quite focus on them properly._

_The being -- he? She? …It? Neku wasn't sure -- nodded to him, and gave the faintest hint of a formal bow. "Welcome, Mr. Sakuraba, to what remains of Shibuya."_

_He froze, his breath catching in his throat as fear abruptly became terror. "What? No. _No. _That's not -- that's not possible."_

_"On the contrary," the being said calmly. "Possible and, in light of your recent Games, inevitable."_

_"My recent...__" Neku shook his head, fighting down the rising panic. "No. There's some -- you've made some mistake. Joshua put everything back. He--"_

_"Joshua?" the being interrupted, frowning. "Oh, yes. The, ah, nickname_ _which your Composer prefers. A strange informality, for one of his station. Very human." Distaste was evident in its tone. "He is being dealt with."_

_Neku stared numbly as the being continued, implacably, "But that is irrelevant. The fact is that you lost your final Game. In those circumstances--" It shrugged. " Your entry fee is non-refundable."_

_"My entry fee?" Neku repeated blankly._

_"Shibuya, Mr. Sakuraba. Making the city's destruction… your fault."_

* * *

_And then he was back in the vast, dark throne room, where he had won Joshua's Game for him only to be shot for his troubles. This time, though, the throne was not empty._

_"Dreaming? _Really, _Neku?" And the face, half-hidden in a shroud of shimmering light, might have been unrecognisable; the voice might have changed; but that damned laugh would have been hard to mistake, after it had spent a week setting his teeth on edge. "How boringly traditional. I suppose that's humanity all over, but I did expect better from you."_

_"Let me get this straight," Neku said shortly. "_You've_ wandered into _my_ dreams. To complain that my dreams are boring. Only you, Josh."_

_"Shush, and try to pay attention, will you? You never know where these things might be coming from." The grin, too, was the same, Neku thought, though it was difficult to see through the light. "Anyway, don't you have a mission to get to? Should be coming in at any moment now, I expect."_

* * *

He was jolted awake by the sound of his cell phone beeping. The sound was half-woven in with disjointed nightmares, and for a brief, disoriented moment before the rest of his senses reasserted themselves, he was afraid he would open his eyes upon Scramble Crossing and yet another day in the Game. Eventually it sank in, however, that his bed was a good deal softer than the Crossing's pavement, and his eyes flickered open to pitch darkness.

Nightmares forgotten, he pushed himself groggily out of bed and went to retrieve the phone from his desk, stumbling over a chair in the process. He could swear his room had rearranged itself in his three-week absence, although it was no less of a mess than he had left it.

_1 new text message. _The glow of the cell phone's display was almost painfully bright in the darkness. Rubbing his eyes, Neku warily opened the message, wondering who could possibly think that this was a good time of night to chat.

He read the words that appeared on the screen, blinked a few times, and read them again, thinking that his tired eyes must have gotten it wrong the first time.

They hadn't. In its entirety, the message read:

_You will refrain from all contact with the Underground. That is an order. Fail to comply, and there will be consequences._

_The fates of fallen angels and over-confident Composers are not your concern._

There was no number, no form of identification.

Neku stared at it for several long seconds before sinking into his chair, leaning forward, and gently resting his forehead on his desk. _Over. This… is supposed… to be… _over.

_Not your concern._

"Right up until you said that," he muttered, "I wasn't even completely sure there was anything to be concerned _about._ Thanks so much. Whoever the hell you are."

A minute or so later, he lifted his head and read the last sentence again. _Fallen angels? _

_Do I _know _any fallen angels? _

The only person in all of this that he was really concerned about was Mr. H--

He stopped and thought this over for a few seconds, then shook his head. Mr. Hanekoma was -- well -- Mr. Hanekoma. That he was somebody special, yes, there was no question; there was a kind of… aura about him that could make a person want to listen when he spoke, even when said person was as sullenly self-absorbed and disinterested in the world as Neku had been at the start of his Game. And his artwork -- CAT's artwork; though it'd had a couple weeks to sink in now, Neku still couldn't help grinning at the fact that he'd _met _CAT -- had the same effect.

And… all right, he could make cell phone cameras take pictures of things that had happened days earlier. And he'd somehow gathered up Rhyme's soul, when she was erased, and sealed it in a pin for safe keeping and to keep Beat alive. And he watched over the Game, and could tell a Reaper -- even one as persistent as Uzuki -- to take a hike. And he was on a first-name basis with the Composer.

_Special _didn't begin to cover it -- but Neku found it very difficult, somehow, to imagine Mr. H was an angel. He just had trouble picturing an angel who charged quite so much for one damn cup of coffee, and who clearly did not know the meaning of the words _on the house. _

Anyway, a _fallen _angel? Coffee prices aside, he couldn't picture that, either. Neku had never met anyone else whom he'd come to trust quite so quickly or easily as Sanae Hanekoma.

But aside from Joshua -- who Neku wasn't particularly concerned about anyway -- there wasn't anyone else, and the note had said 'fallen angels and foolish Composers' as if they were different people. So it wasn't Joshua. So… it _had _to be Mr. H.

Of course, barely more than a week ago he'd been convinced Mr. H had to be the Composer, though he hadn't wanted to believe it. If he'd tried to think of people he knew who _might_have been the Composer, Joshua wouldn't even have occurred to him. But that had only been because Joshua was Joshua, and -- in Neku's limited experience -- never took a straight and simple route when a complicated and seriously screwy one would do.

On which subject, Joshua _might _have sent the message himself, just for the sake of winding Neku up. Neku wouldn't have put it past him.

Hanekoma and fallen angels temporarily forgotten, Neku considered this.

It was possible. He hadn't wanted to think so earlier, but he'd been fresh out of an incredibly aggravating conversation with Joshua then, and had been feeling a little uncertain about things. But Joshua was the _Composer_. If anyone in the past month had ever had any kind of a chance against him -- and Neku wasn't entirely sure about that -- it was probably only because he had found it amusing to let them.

The whole thing might just be one more weird, stupid, made-up game on Joshua's part, his way of saying: _Oh, you _really_ think you _trust _me, do you? _He might have gotten bored and decided that messing with Neku's head looked like a good way of passing the time for a few hours. Mr. H might just be busy, not stuck in the UG at all. WildKat Café might be open for business as normal in a few days.

And, well, Joshua's sense of humor _was _demonstrably… skewed. It was not hard for Neku to imagine that another text message would show up in a day or two, this one reading: _You know, Neku, your face really is_ _priceless right about now._

It was much simpler than thinking that someone who actually had the power to rival the Composer had shown up, and Neku would really, really have liked to believe it.

_Yeah. But there's only one way to survive in this Shibuya, remember? _

He got back into bed and lay awake, staring at the ceiling, almost until dawn.

* * *

Eventually, however, he slept… and, eventually, woke.

…To a very hard and uncomfortable surface beneath him, and the noise of a crowd all around. _What the--?_

But even before he opened his eyes, he knew, with a too-familiar sinking in his stomach, exactly where he was. After a while, one started to recognize the symptoms.

_You know, Joshua, you're starting to make an incredibly compelling case for why I should have shot you when I had the chance._

Resignedly, Neku opened his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, looking around, though he suspected that by now he could have pointed out most of Scramble Crossing's landmarks while blindfolded. To his complete and utter lack of surprise, nobody seemed to notice a kid regaining consciousness in the middle of the street. Just to be entirely certain, though, he reached out and tried to tap someone on the shoulder; his hand passed straight through the man's arm, and he nodded glumly.

Aloud, he called, "All right. Unless I died in my sleep, would anybody care to tell me why the hell I'm here _this _time?"

An instant later, he yelped in surprise as a too-familiar pain seared itself into his right hand, and he shut his eyes. _Oh, no. No, no, no. You have _got_ to be kidding me. This is a nightmare, right?_

Dreading what he would see, Neku cautiously unclenched his fist and opened his eyes -- but no timer, counting down the seconds he had left to live, met his sight. Instead, a line of kanji and kana, written in a small, neat, careful hand, was working its way across his palm:

_Meet me past the Acheron._

* * *

A/N: I'm less fond of this chapter than I was of the last one… but I vowed to have it up by today, so here it is. Next chapter Joshua will be back, and life will be much more fun.

At least for the people who aren't stuck putting up with him. :)


	3. chances

Disclaimer: _The World Ends With You _is the property of Square Enix. As always, I'm just borrowing.

* * *

A/N: Whew. Please don't ask me how many times I rewrote this chapter. I stopped keeping count somewhere around the seventh draft.

Many thanks to those who have reviewed and/or favorited! 'Tis much appreciated. :)

Also, about the title of the story… it's part of a quote which Josh will mention later on, so I'll leave the explanation to him for now.

* * *

-3: chances-

* * *

The day after Neku Sakuraba and his friends had been returned to life and it had become clear that Shibuya was _not_ about to vanish in a fit of divine petulance, Hanekoma had gathered up every shred of his courage and gone to face the Composer for what he had fully expected would be the last time, intending to confess his sins, resign from his position and face whatever the future held.

It hadn't gone quite as expected.

_He had never before been afraid to set foot in the Room of Reckoning, and was more than a little ashamed to find the emotion overtaking him now. He had known when this started that when it ended, his life as he knew it would be over, and if he were given the last month to do over again he would make the same choices in a heartbeat, but…_

…_Nonetheless._

_Drawing a deep breath, he stepped through the entranceway and into the vast, dark hall. Joshua, seated on his great throne, looked up at his entrance, but said nothing as Hanekoma approached. As the angel opened his mouth to speak, however, the Composer held up a warning hand, forestalling the carefully thought out words._

_"Sanae. You're here about Minamimoto, I assume?" The corners of his mouth curled upwards, into their familiar yet still slightly unsettling grin. "I wondered when we'd get to this."_

_Hanekoma shut his eyes, bowed his head, and did not bother to ask how the Composer knew. "Yes, my Lord," he said quietly. The title was strange and foreign on his tongue; it was scarcely used by anyone anymore, but surely he had lost all right to their old familiarities, and 'Sir' hardly seemed adequate either. "I -- cannot ask Your forgiv--"_

_"Oh, don't be silly, Sanae," Joshua interrupted him, his tone suddenly cross. "Nobody's begging anyone's forgiveness, and you aren't resigning. And you aren't being erased, or banished, or whatever else you're thinking of. I forbid it."_

_One eye opened. "My Lord--"_

_"Call me that once more, though," Joshua added levelly, "and you'll be out on your ear."_

_"Uh…" Hanekoma coughed, opening his other eye and raising his head, though he did not quite make eye contact. After so many years, he thought, he should have had a better idea what to expect from the being before him. "Yes, Sir."_

_The Composer sighed. "Sanae, did you honestly think I would care?" _

_Hanekoma stared straight ahead. "I did help a madman try to kill You, Sir." He felt, somehow, that this was a point which someone really ought to be making._

_"And?" He could feel the calm, unconcerned gaze boring into him. "I was of the understanding that you were trying to save Shibuya. Was I wrong?"_

_"…No, Sir."_

_"Well, then. Of course Shibuya comes first--" as if He had not been about to level the place a month ago. "I'm glad to hear you have your priorities in order." The Composer shrugged. After a moment, he added, mildly, "You're giving me a very odd look, Sanae." _

_"Uh… sorry, Sir." Hanekoma swallowed, and admitted, "Wasn't really how I was expecting this conversation to go."_

_Again the faint grin. "If you really insist on penance, feel free to tell the higher-ups; I'm sure they'll take care of it. Personally, I find lying to them works wonders, but whatever makes you feel better." He waved a dismissive hand. "Tell them I said they can do whatever they like to you, as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties as Shibuya's Producer. Anything else, and they'll have to get through Me."_

_Hanekoma was silent for a long moment before saying, quietly, "Thanks, boss."_

_"I'll expect a lot of free espresso over the next few weeks, mind you."_

That last had been something of a sticking point -- his job was one thing, his life was one thing, but giving away coffee without payment ran against the very grain of Hanekoma's soul -- but half an hour of arguing later, they had hashed out a tentative discount program upon which they could both reluctantly agree, and that, Joshua had seemed to feel, had been that.

What Hanekoma had _not_ pointed out at the time was that the higher-ups were in no way bound to heed the wishes of a mere Composer… particularly when one of their own had taken a blatantly treasonous course of action. And particularly when the Composer in question was not exactly in favor himself, at present -- though with any luck, Hanekoma had expected, Joshua should have gotten out of his own troubles without much worse than a sharp slap on the wrist and possibly an order never, _ever_ to go near a gun again.

Hanekoma had gone to speak to Joshua first because they'd been friends for a long time (_and hey, what's an assassination attempt between friends?_ ) and he had felt that Joshua deserved to hear the story from him, not the higher-ups. Deserved the first swing at him, too, if that was what it came down to. But ultimately, what happened to him over this wasn't up to Joshua… and there was no way in hell that a fallen angel was going to be permitted to stay on as Shibuya's Producer.

He hadn't actually needed to tell the Higher Planes. They had been watching Shibuya -- and specifically Joshua -- quite closely enough already; they had heard the conversation.

There were, however, still formalities to be observed, and shortly thereafter Joshua had received a very politely-worded message on his cell phone, beginning _We regret to inform You…_, and going on to say that Sanae Hanekoma had officially been declared Fallen and was to be tried for his crimes, and that Shibuya would be sent a new Producer within the week.

Which was where things had gotten a little… interesting.

* * *

As Neku was starting home in a foul mood one week later, Joshua was still standing by Hachiko, cheerfully ignoring the knowledge that Sanae, standing next to him, was about ready to hit him over the head with something large and heavy if he spoke a word out of place. As the two dark-clad figures drew near, he raised a hand in greeting, wryly remembering the last person he'd met by the little statue. This probably wasn't going to be as much fun as that had been -- the look on Neku's face, when he'd first met his new partner, was a memory which Joshua intended to cherish for a long time -- but he could always hope. "Howdy."

Next to him, he heard Sanae give a very quiet groan. The two figures paused for a moment and glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes; out of the corner of his mouth, Sanae muttered, "Not sure that's the greeting I would have chosen, boss. Under the circumstances."

Joshua pretended he hadn't heard.

In unison, the two inclined their heads a calculated fraction of an inch, in something that could barely have been called a bow at all. One said, very stiffly, "Greetings, Shibuya."

Joshua's lips curled up in a sweet smile at their careful expressions. Maybe this _would _be entertaining. Not as much so as, say, making his recent proxy treat him to dinner would have been, but a moderately interesting way to kill a few minutes, nonetheless. "Call me Joshua. Please."

Again the glance between the two. At last, the pair seemed to decide that this informality was best dealt with by pretending it hadn't happened, and one of them began, "We must request that you come with us, Composer."

"Request," Joshua asked mildly, "or order?"

"We would prefer," the second said gravely, "that it be a request."

Joshua nodded. "Then I must respectfully decline. Things to do. I'm sure you know how it is."

Sanae's elbow hit him none too gently in the side, and the angel spoke through clenched teeth. "Boss…"

"My Producer, on the other hand, has entirely too much free time on his hands at present," Joshua added blandly. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to chat with you. Now, if there's nothing else--"

The first of the pair cleared his throat. "We would _prefer,_" he repeated, "to make it a request. However, Composer, it will be an order if it must. Not," he added, and there was a sudden slight dryness in his tone, "that you seem particularly inclined to follow those, either."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You were, I believe, told most emphatically to remain in the Underground," the second said.

"Ah." Joshua tilted his head thoughtfully. "Sanae did mention it a few days ago, yes."

"And yet--"

"You ask Sanae," Joshua continued, still in mild, amiable tones, as if completely unaware that he was interrupting, "when I last did as he told me. Go on. Ask him."

"Not in the last ten minutes," the angel muttered resignedly under his breath. "I can tell you that much."

"A message _was _sent directly to you, Shibuya."

"Really?" Joshua frowned delicately for a moment before allowing his expression to clear. "Oh, yes. That one, I believe, was phrased as a request as well. Sanae was a bit more definite, but, as I said…" He shrugged diffidently, letting that sentence go unfinished.

"It is generally understood," the second said levelly, "that some… _requests…_ are meant to be obeyed." There was an odd, strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and a snort, from Sanae, but the angel said nothing, and the duo ignored him.

_What do you think, _Joshua shot cheerfully to Sanae's thoughts, secure in the knowledge that only the angel would hear. _Could we take them, if it came down to it?_

Looking over, he saw the angel's eyes widen ever so slightly, glancing heavenward as a peculiar, resigned sort of horror flashed in their depths. It was not unakin to the expression Neku had worn on the day Joshua had more or less forcibly dragged him into the little Lapin Angelique shop by A-East.

"And regrettably," the first went on, oblivious to the telepathic comment, "given your refusal to do so in this instance, Shibuya… steps must be taken to ensure that it does not happen again."

_Personally,_ Joshua added, _I suspect we could, between the two of us. They're too hesitant by half. Not used to coming down this far. Now, _that _would be an interesting fight… and don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy the challenge, Sanae. _(He had not missed the fact that his Producer had leapt at the opportunity to take on the other Neku in battle, over in Tin Pin Land. Sanae was just lucky Joshua had gotten the chance to do the same, or Joshua might have been in a far less forgiving mood where certain other offenses were concerned. Admittedly it hadn't been _his, _Joshua's, Neku, but still. Next best thing.)

Sanae gave a very brief shake of his head, nearly imperceptible but somehow, nonetheless, reproving.

Aloud, Joshua asked the first of the two, in tones of idle curiosity, "And what exactly does that entail?" To Sanae, he conceded silently, _Of course, the real trick would be surviving the aftermath_. _Don't look like that; I'm not honestly considering it. I'd have to work up a sweat, and you know that's not really my _thing_. I just wondered._

It was the second who answered simply, "At this moment, Composer, it entails you coming with us. One way or another."

"And then?"

"A… seal will be put in place, in the Room of Reckoning," the first said quietly. "It will keep you there -- where you should be in any event, Composer -- and in the Underground, for the time."

Joshua's lips thinned as he nodded. It was with some satisfaction, however, that he sent one more thought in his Producer's direction:_ Now, _there's_ a surprise. Told you. Well, this one's up to you, Sanae… but you knew that, of course. Do try to be convincing, will you?_

* * *

And then, some twelve hours later, an incredibly annoyed Neku was standing in Scramble Crossing and staring at the palm of his hand.

"The Acheron?" The name rang a very, very faint bell at the back of his mind, but he couldn't say where he'd heard it.

Pain once again flared, and he sucked in a sharp breath, fingers twitching involuntarily, as another line of text began to unroll. If handwriting could look exasperated, this did.

_That's the Shibuya River to you._

And, tacked on as an afterthought a second later:

_FYI, the Acheron is a river, in Greece, which was once believed to run into the underworld. I take it we haven't studied much mythology? There isn't time just now, but do try opening a book once in a while, Neku. It'd be nice if you could pretend to be halfway educated._

Neku blinked in tired bemusement at his now rather crowded hand. If there had been any doubt in his mind that Joshua was once again to blame for whatever was going on, that had just erased it. He couldn't think of anyone else who would go to the trouble of summoning him to the UG simply to insult his intelligence.

When a few seconds later he had not yet moved, the words vanished, to be replaced by larger and decidedly more emphatic characters:

_**Now **__would be good, Neku. Some of us don't have all day._

"Ow. All right. All _right. _On my way." He winced, rubbing at his stinging hand, and started towards Hachiko. Briefly, he considered asking what this was about, but any answer from Joshua was likely to be less than enlightening, and his hand hurt enough already. "You know, I think I liked the cell phones better," he added pointedly.

This received an immediate, surprisingly terse response:

_Bad idea. Phone being monitored._

Neku halted dead in his tracks, the sharp pain in his hand forgotten. "_What?_"

_Just come here, will you? And shush._

Neku swallowed uneasily, nodded, and ran for the bus terminal at top speed. _Joshua, I _swear_, if this is your stupid idea of a game…_

* * *

A short time later, he was picking his way along a dank tunnel, trying not to think about the last time he'd been here (only a week ago? It seemed a century, and technically _had _been a lifetime), and grimacing a little ruefully at what had, five minutes ago, been clean shoes. _You people picked a heck of a location, you know. I mean, I realise real estate's expensive, but sheesh._

At last he reached the incongruously bright and clean lounge where they had first confronted Kitaniji. Neku stared at the door in some trepidation before slowly, cautiously pushing it open.

The room was almost exactly as it had been a week ago. No sign of Joshua, but to Neku's surprise the room's second doorway, which had only appeared via mental scan the last time he'd been here, was now dimly visible as a faint, shimmering outline in the air.

Odd -- but fortunate, he supposed. He didn't have a Player Pin this time around, and he couldn't scan without one.

He stepped through, and once again found himself in the trail lined with CAT's -- Mr. Hanekoma's -- familiar and beloved murals. He glanced up at them as he walked, and, as always, couldn't help but smile. _Enjoy life, huh? Well, I'm trying. I think I'm getting better at it._

…_Josh isn't exactly helping the enjoyment factor at the moment, but, you know, I'll do my best._

On which subject, there was still no sign of Joshua, and Neku made a face. The throne room was just ahead. He'd been… kind of hoping he wouldn't have to go back there.

_"Neku?" And that friendly, almost fond smile was on Joshua's face, lighting his violet eyes, giving no hint that he could see Neku's world breaking into pieces as he spoke. "You'd better pick up that gun."_

Shaking his head as if to dislodge the memory, Neku picked up his pace, striding along the tunnel. _What's done is done. _

And he tried to ignore the small, persistent thought which said to this, _Yeah? So why do you suppose you're back _here_, exactly?_

Stepping into the vast, dark Room of Reckoning, he looked around, and suppressed a sigh. Sure enough, a small, slender figure stood in the distance, waiting patiently before the throne. Before _his _throne, specifically; the figure was still too far off to see clearly in the dim, apparently sourceless light that spilled through the room, but the long, pale, tousled hair and fair skin and horrifically expensive clothes (seriously, who shopped Dragon Couture and Pegaso and then hung around in a sewer?) were recognisable even from here.

Joshua raised a hand in greeting as Neku drew near. "There you are, Neku. I must say, you made good time."

Neku folded his arms across his chest, gave his erstwhile partner a level stare, and said without preamble, "What's going on?"

Joshua's lips twisted into a faint smile. "Hello to you too."

"Joshua," Neku said firmly, "you show up in the RG with no warning. You drop all these stupid hints about problems, and Mr. Hanekoma being in some kind of trouble. Then you vanish into thin air, mid-freaking-_sentence, _with nothing but a 'Nice knowing you.' About three o'clock this morning I get woken up by a text message on my cell, with no number, no name, no anything, ordering me to avoid any contact with the UG or suffer the consequences--"

He stopped. Joshua was frowning at that last, his purple eyes thoughtful. "Really."

"Yeah," Neku told him shortly. "And then a few hours later, where do I find myself? Right back in Scramble Crossing. With you carving a goddamn mythology textbook into my hand. Josh, I'm going to say this slowly and carefully, and I would really, really like an answer: What… the… _hell_?"

Joshua appeared not to have heard this. "I see," he said at last, quietly, and shook his head. "Sorry about that, Neku," he added mildly. "I wasn't expecting them to come down on your head over my trip to the RG yesterday. Not directly. Not yet, anyway."

"Josh. Straight answer. _Focus -- _you can do this, I'm sure you can. Who's _them?_"

"_Honestly, _Neku." A pained expression crossed Joshua's face. "Halfway educated? Please? That has to be the worst grammar that I've ever heard from you; there's no excuse f--"

Neku spoke through gritted teeth. "You know what I meant. Answer. The. Damn. Question."

"Hm." The sound was entirely too amused -- not quite contemptuous, but definitely unimpressed. "Don't worry, Neku; you'll get your explanation. But there's one minor matter which needs to be taken care of first."

Neku opened his mouth, shut his mouth, opened it again, and sighed. "Fine. And that is?"

His gaze followed Joshua's pointing finger, and then stopped to stare.

Between himself and Shibuya's Composer, a wide band of black and white paint wove across the floor, stretching out in a curve which looked as if it ran all the way around the throne. It was made up of dozens of thin, twisting lines, twined together in patterns too complex to follow, and Neku was suddenly and uneasily reminded of the design which Sho Minamimoto had drawn in Udagawa. The design which had summoned Taboo Noise into existence -- and which had allowed the Reaper to return to life, with greater strength than he had possessed before, after Neku and Joshua had fought him.

"You'll need to step across that," Joshua informed him.

Neku eyed it for a moment, eyed Joshua for a moment, eyed Joshua's incredibly innocent expression for a moment, and took two steps backwards. "And that's going to do what, exactly?"

This received a slightly-too-sweet smile. "It's a good deal… safer, on this side, Neku. Other than that, probably nothing."

_Like hell it's safer on that side. _You're _on that side. _"_Probably_," Neku said in a dangerous tone.

Joshua waved a hand irritably. "Definitely nothing, then. If you insist. You did _say_ you trusted me, Neku."

_And I'm going to live to regret that, aren't I? Or rather -- if I'm _lucky, _I'll live to regret that. _"You, more or less. That smile you had on a moment ago? Not so much." Once again, Neku's arms folded stubbornly across his chest. "Let's see _you_ walk across the thing."

"…Ah." Joshua sobered. "That, I'm afraid, would present a slight problem."

"Go on," Neku said levelly.

"When I say _safer, _though, Neku, I do mean it. No-one apart from myself _should _be aware of your presence here, yet, but stay out there and it's only a matter of time before you're noticed."

"Noticed by who?"

"By whom, Neku," Joshua corrected him absently. "That," he nodded to the band of paint, "will… shield you, once you're inside it, but until then it can only do so much. I _will _explain things, I promise you that, but I really do need you to step across first." His smile looked slightly more genuine this time. "Just trust me, Neku."

Neku hesitated, but at last, giving Joshua and his smile a dubious look, walked forward and gingerly stepped across the line of paint.

The floor lurched underneath him, the world spun sickeningly, bright lights exploded in his vision. He staggered, doubling over and clutching at his head, and as he felt the ground collide with his shoulder he vowed -- not for the first time -- to punch Shibuya's Composer in the face at the next convenient opportunity. Unless he developed a serious death wish, this was probably not a vow on which he was ever going to make good, but hey, a guy could dream.

An instant later a hand was helping him to his feet, and he heard the mild, careless voice say, "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Neku, blinking the spots from his eyes, gave Joshua a look of intense dislike. "Why did I not shoot you when I had the chance?"

"Ah, well." One corner of Joshua's mouth curled upward. "Answer that one and you'd win the grand prize, I expect. Do let me know if you ever figure it out."

Neku made a face at him and shrugged the steadying hand off of his shoulder, instead making for the support of one of the pillars which flanked the throne. "Anyway, I'm here. Now _talk._"

"Somebody's cranky this morning. But -- all right. Where to begin?" Joshua paced over to his throne and sat, giving Neku a long, appraising look. "_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes _-- do you know the phrase?"

"What?" Neku stared at him, puzzled. "N…no."

"Hm. You really ought to read more, Neku. As it's usually quoted in Latin, the question is from the Roman poet Juvenal--" A faint smirk crossed Joshua's face. "Although admittedly, Juvenal didn't use it in _quite _the same context as it's generally used now."

_And someone could actually be expected to know this because…?_

"It translates as something like 'Who will guard the guards themselves?' or 'Who will watch over the watchers?'" Joshua shrugged. "In other words, who has the power to see that power is not misused? Always a good question, don't you think?"

"What I think," Neku said levelly, "is that you don't know the actual meaning of the phrase 'straight answer', do you? Joshua, if this is just leading up to more snide comments on the state of my education--"

"Do pay attention, Neku. I'm getting there. The point is that while a Composer's powers -- within His, or Her, territory -- are _technically_ absolute, the overall hierarchy doesn't end there. There are planes beyond the RG and the UG. Their inhabitants almost never interfere directly in the affairs of the UG -- just as the UG almost never interferes directly in the RG."

Neku almost choked. "Um, Joshua? About that last--"

This was met with a sigh. "_Almost _never, I said. Don't interrupt. But, of course, that's part of the problem. The Higher Planes watch, always -- and they were quite curious to see, Neku, how my Game with Kitaniji would play out. Unfortunately, now that it's over, they've, ah…" Joshua hesitated. "Raised some questions."

"Really? You surprise me."

"It _is _a bit of a surprise," Joshua agreed, oblivious to sarcasm. "They aren't ones to involve themselves. They aren't ones to explain themselves, either, but as far as I can tell…" Something in his tone became oddly guarded. "I don't think that certain of them are entirely happy about how it turned out."

"Huh?" Neku stared at him blankly. "You didn't blow up Shibuya, or whatever you were going to do. Shades's brainwashing has all been undone. Shibuya, as far as I can see, is in surprisingly good shape. I can understand somebody being a little upset about, oh, _everything _up to that point, but as far as the end goes, what's not to be happy about?"

"Oh, you'd be amazed," Joshua said quietly. "There are actually several problems that have been brought up, Neku. The one _you _might want to worry about, however, is -- well -- you."

Neku gave him a long, careful look. "Me."

"That's what I said, yes. I… don't know if you realise just how strong you became, Neku, during the Game. There aren't many people in Shibuya who could survive everything you survived -- and of those, most of them never get anywhere close to their full potential, not in life. They die, they play the Game, and they come out of it a little stronger -- as they're intended to -- but if they return to life, they forget all about the UG. And the RG… simply doesn't pose the same kind of challenges."

"One of its charms," Neku said levelly. "But -- wait. _I _remember the UG."

"Yes, well, you're a special case. As I was saying before you interrupted -- again -- you were changed far more by the Game than most people ever have the chance to be." Joshua shrugged. "Your imagination, your soul… they've become very powerful, Neku. When you returned to life, you hung onto some things that most couldn't have. And not only that, but without even knowing you were doing it you changed things for your friends, too, allowed _them _to remember."

"I… did?"

"You did. And to be honest, the Higher Planes aren't quite sure what to do about it."

"But--" Neku blinked. "Why? I mean -- I didn't mean to do anything. I just… want to get back to my life." He rubbed wearily at his forehead, watching the sudden careful lack of expression on Joshua's face. "And that's… that's not going to happen, is it," he said flatly.

"Hard to say, at this point." Joshua was still quiet. "But when your imagination's strong enough to start twisting reality around yourself, when you aren't even trying... well. Certain members of the Higher Planes are a bit concerned about what you might manage if you _should _try. Or what you might do by accident. Warping reality to that extent, from the RG… not really allowed, you see. Tends to have unpredictable consequences."

"Okay. Let me get this straight. If I _hadn't _survived your Game, I'd have been erased. I _did _survive your Game, and now I'm going to get in trouble for it?"

"Not for the actual feat of _survival, _as such, Neku. Everybody's very impressed about that, I assure you."

"You know," Neku bit out, "what I meant."

Joshua drew a deep breath. "Probably, yes."

"And what's going to happen?"

"…Hard to say."

"_Joshua,_" Neku snapped, glaring at him.

Joshua gave him a bland smile. "I'm a good deal older than you, Neku. And -- not to put too fine a point on it -- I own your soul. Technically speaking. Please don't take that tone with me."

Several responses to this came to mind, though most of them had the same basic gist. Neku bit all of them back, and glowered. "Joshua," he said as patiently as he could manage, "what's going to happen?"

"I really don't know for certain, Neku," Joshua said calmly. "It's unlikely, however, that you'll be allowed to remain in the RG."

"I see."

"Also," Joshua added, as if as an afterthought, "there's a chance Shibuya will be erased and rewritten from scratch."

"There's a _what?_"

"I know. And after all that we went through, too." Shaking his head, the Composer added, in a tone more rueful than upset, "Figures, doesn't it?"

* * *

A/N: And on that note… I hate to say it, but it's probably going to be at least a couple of weeks before the next chapter is up. I have some important exams coming up at the end of the month, and a lot of my free time in the near future needs to go into studying for them. Wish me luck.


	4. and second chances

Disclaimer: _The World Ends With You _belongs to Square Enix, not to me, and all characters are used here without permission.

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A/N: Whew, another chapter done at last -- sorry it took so long. And... wow. Ten reviews on the last chapter!! Seriously, you guys are awesome -- many, many thanks. Thanks to all who've favorited, too; it's very much appreciated. Hope I continue not to disappoint. :)

EDIT: Thanks to CherrySoda for pointing out a typo. It's now been fixed.

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-4: ...and second chances-

* * *

_Figures, doesn't it?_

The words hung in the air for a moment after Joshua had spoken them. In Neku's mind they called forth a sudden memory of the too-vivid nightmare he'd had, of gray, empty space where Shibuya should have been. It was too much to take in on short notice, and Neku stared speechlessly at Joshua for a long, frozen, horrified moment as he once again sank back to lean against the pillar that stood by the throne. He had to; his head was reeling as badly as it had when he'd first stepped across the barrier.

Joshua regarded him in expressionless silence, his violet eyes unreadable--

--And then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, into that weirdly affectionate smile.

"You really should see the look on your face right now, Neku. I'd take a picture, but the higher-ups are paying far too much attention to my phone at the moment. Someone would probably notice sooner or later, and that would cause problems, obviously, because you really aren't supposed to be here."

Neku drew a long, deep breath. And another. "This is all some kind of sick joke to you, isn't it? It really is."

"Enjoy the moment, Neku."

"Yeah. I don't think that's _quite _how he meant it."

"Oh, I don't know," Joshua said. "When you get to know him, Sanae's own sense of humor is pretty skewed, sometimes."

"_Why_," Neku said, far, far more levelly than he wanted to, "is Shibuya going to be erased?"

"I didn't say it would be, Neku. There's a chance,I distinctly heard myself say." He shrugged. "If you'd stopped complaining for long enough to listen to anything I said, I'm sure you would have heard it too."

"How _much _of a chance?"

"It's... hard to say."

Neku would have killed for a psychokinesis pin right about now. Although, admittedly, there wasn't much around to use one on other than Joshua himself, and Joshua would probably not prove as simple a target to hit as Shiki once had.

Well, if he was wishing for a pin, he might as well wish for a few good, sharp traffic cones, too. Or a motorcycle. Or maybe, he thought, he could go back out to the river, find a few of the Noise that always lurked there, bring them back, and use psychokinesis on _them. _Maybe ten, fifteen minutes of being repeatedly beaten about the head with two-foot-high, slimy, sewer-dwelling frogs would be enough to get Joshua to talk.

There were at least a dozen reasons why that wouldn't work, either, even if he'd had a pin to begin with, but it was a _nice_ image, and he stared at it fixedly in his head as he prompted, patiently, "Best guess, Josh?"

"Call it fifty-fifty." Joshua paused, and then added, "...Approximately."

Neku shut his eyes. "All right. And why is there such a high chance that this will happen?"

"It's not _that _high," Joshua said dismissively. "It's just as likely it won't."

Another deep breath. Maybe... maybe he'd see if he could find some jellyfish, to go with the frogs; those things stung like absolute hell. "Fifty percent is pretty damned high, Joshua."

"Hm." Joshua sounded entirely too amused, and Neku opened his eyes to see the Composer regarding him curiously. "Just a week ago, Neku, you let me win our Game. You couldn't seriously have thought that the odds of Shibuya's survival were any better then."

Neku swallowed. Inasmuch as he could remember what had gone through his head during the calm, cold, quiet countdown, there had been shock, and stunned disbelief, and anger, and confusion, and hurt... and grief. Shiki and Beat were two of the closest friends he'd ever had, there was no question, but those were friendships built with little but the hardships they'd shared in the Game for common ground. Whereas Joshua...

_I _thought_ I'd finally found a friend I could relate to. _

There had not been a lot of rational thought, amidst the chaos. He'd known what he _had _to do, absolutely had to at all costs, and he'd found that he couldn't, and then he'd gotten shot. Again.

It probably didn't say good things about your life when your own death started conjuring up a sense of _déjà_ _vu_.

"I... didn't believe you'd really erase it," he said.

"You had no way of knowing that I wasn't going to," Joshua said calmly. "You couldn't have. _I _didn't know I wasn't going to. Sanae didn't know I wasn't going to. And between the two of us, we've generally got my mental state pretty well covered."

"I can see," Neku muttered, "where someone wouldn't want to leave it up to you alone, but quit trying to change the subject. Why, _this _time, is there a one in two chance that Shibuya will be wiped out?"

Joshua opened his mouth, and Neku added, levelly, "And if you say _it's hard to say_ one more time, I will personally make you eat frogs."

This received a mildly affronted look. "That, I would pay to see you try. As it happens, it _is _hard to say; Sanae is my only direct source of information where the higher-ups are concerned, and, ah... he's not in a position to be tremendously helpful at the moment. Though he's doing the best he can."

"Sa -- Mr. H," Neku said cautiously.

"Mm. Oh, yes," Joshua said, as if it had just occurred to him. "You don't really know about him, do you."

"I know he's some sort of guardian for the Game. I know he's CAT. I've... kind of worked out that there's a hell of a lot more I don't know. But that's about it." But Neku swallowed, and added, "Except that -- that text message I got last night -- it said something about fallen angels, and I wondered if that was--"

The look on Joshua's face as his eyebrows shot upwards was confirmation enough. "_Really. _Now, that's peculiar; they don't generally like to broadcast those things. To anyone. Still," and he grinned, "at least I can honestly say you didn't hear it from me first."

"Since when have _you_ cared about honesty?"

"Now, that's just hurtful, Neku."

Neku ignored this. "So Mr. H... really is a...?"

"Mm-hm. But, as I said, you didn't hear that from me."

"A _fallen _angel?"

"Mm. His own silly fault, really. He tried to interfere in my Game with Megumi."

"He--"

"The details aren't important right now, Neku," Joshua said firmly. "He was trying to protect Shibuya, in his own way. Unfortunately, when everything was over he was silly enough to let the higher-ups find out about it. I did suggest he lie through his teeth, but he's rather stubborn when he wants to be." A cross look darkened the Composer's face for a moment. "As I said, the situation's gotten a bit complicated. However, what _you _should be worried about right now is yourself."

"And Shibuya."

"That too."

"You still haven't told me _why_--"

"I just told you, Neku, I can't be entirely certain," Joshua said. "But with Megumi's failed strategy, and Sanae's fooling around, and admittedly my own... cleanup efforts, afterwards -- and the risk of _your _imagination starting to run amok, now -- Shibuya's been through a lot recently. From what I understand, some of the higher-ups are concerned that reality around here might start getting a bit unstable as a result. And that the instability will spread.

"What does that _mean?_"

Joshua smiled faintly. "It's--"

Neku groaned, and echoed, "Hard to say," only a fraction of a second out of sync with the Composer. _I will not punch the god of Shibuya's afterlife. I will not punch the god of Shibuya's afterlife. I would like to live, thank you. I will not..._

"I don't think they're entirely positive themselves, to tell you the truth. But erasing Shibuya entirely would almost certainly eliminate whatever threat might exist, and some of them feel they'd be better off safe than sorry."

"What, that's _it?_" Neku stared at him in disbelief. "Darn, Shibuya and, what, a few hundred thousand people just got wiped out of existence, but hey, a danger that might or might not have existed is now _almost _definitely gone, so oh well?"

"Pretty much." Joshua shrugged. "Personally, though, I don't think it's the solution they'll choose."

"You said it was a fifty-fifty shot."

"Really, Neku, you _do _need to listen." Joshua's tone became pedantic. "_Approximately, _I said. I really have no way of judging the odds, at this point, but you wanted a guess. I gave you a guess. You didn't ask what the margin of error was."

Neku blinked at him in silence a couple of times, and then stared fixedly upwards for a moment before asking, with patient dread, "What was the margin of error?"

And there was that wicked grin that generally meant Neku wasn't going to like what Joshua said next. "Oh... probably forty-nine percent or so. Maybe forty-nine and a half, tops." The grin faded as he admitted, "At present the city's chances simply aren't calculable, Neku. From what I _have_ gathered, as I said, I doubt they'll do it -- at least not without trying some other things first -- but as of yet I'm working from a picture that's far from complete."

Neku's right hand rose, pinching at the bridge of his nose in an effort to dispel the headache he could feel coming on. There was one thing, he reflected, to be said for talking to Yoshiya Kiryu at any length, and it was this: you got a _lot _of practice at holding your temper. "Joshua, just -- just once in a while, could you say _I don't know _like a sane and normal person?"

"Now, where would be the fun in that? Anyway, I _did _say it was hard to be sure, but would you listen? No. You insisted on an answer. You know, Neku--" and Joshua's tone became reproving -- "You aren't the easiest person to talk to, sometimes. I hope you realise this."

And yet, what you _didn't _get, talking to him, was enough practice at holding your temper to -- well -- actually allow you to hold your temper while talking to him. Bit of a problem, that.

"_I'm _not the easiest--?" Neku spluttered for a moment before shaking his head and gritting his teeth in grim resolve. _No. No -- I'm not even going to answer that. _Sewer frogs, jellyfish, and it was _really _a shame that those nightmarish pink elephants they'd met once or twice were immune to psychokinesis. Not that they lived anywhere near the river anyway, but as long as he was in fantasy land...

"Well, you aren't. I just thought I ought to mention it as a point of interest; you're so taken with self-improvement these days. If you really want explanations, you _could _stop interrupting and just let me talk. I will tell you what I think you need to know, Neku, but I am not obligated to explain myself to you any more than I care to, and this would be going much more smoothly if you would bear that in mind."

There had been some reason, Neku remembered, why yesterday some part of his mind had thought it might be good, after some bizarre fashion, to see Joshua again.

He couldn't presently remember what it had been. It was a lot easier to feel halfway kindly inclined towards Shibuya's Composer when you weren't actually in the same room with him. From a distance, Neku could just about convince himself that things had turned out for the best and that maybe, somehow, everything had been meant to happen as it had, no matter what Joshua might have said at the end. That from the beginning, it had all been part of some higher plan that only Joshua could see, that none of the horrors of the last month had happened without reason.

Closer to, it was hard not to feel that yes, there _had _been a reason, which was that the ruler of Shibuya's Underground had a really sadistic sense of humor. No higher plans, no hidden designs, no grand order to the whole thing. Just the godly equivalent of a creepy kid who liked to pull the wings off of flies when he was bored.

_And yet -- I trust him. Going to get me killed... but I trust him._

_Doesn't mean I have to _like _him._

"Yeah, see -- _no._" He folded his arms over his chest stubbornly. "First off, as far as obligations go? You shot me in the head. You put me through three weeks of hell. Then you shot me again. Now you pop up out of nowhere a week later, drag me into the UG in my sleep, tell me the whole city's about to be destroyed despite everything my friends and I just went through, and--"

"Neku--"

Neku's voice rose slightly. "--And act like I'm supposed to be _okay _with this and just go along with whatever you--"

"_Neku._" Sharply. "None of this is news, and I have to tell you, right at the moment -- world's smallest violin playing over here."

Neku's hands clenched themselves into fists involuntarily as he snapped his mouth shut. For a moment the two stared at each other in silence, Neku glaring daggers in a sudden rush of anger, Joshua gazing back, calm and indifferent.

At last Joshua opened his mouth to say, very softly: "Composer, Neku. All Shibuya is rightfully Mine, to do with as I will. You're a part of Shibuya. And we could have the long version of that conversation, if you really, _really_ insist, but the short version? _Deal with it._"

Neku stared at him speechlessly for a moment longer, the brief instant of fury draining away into a sort of strange blankness that filled his head. And then, abruptly, he pushed away from the pillar against which he had been leaning, spun, and strode back towards the tangle of lines painted on the floor.

"Neku..." There was a definite warning note in Joshua's voice.

Neku did not turn back. "Josh, I don't know what's really going on, and frankly, even if you did give me a straight answer I'm not sure I'd believe it. But whatever the hell you want from me this time, tough. You're on your own."

"Yes, all right, Neku." From his tone of barely-concealed impatience, Joshua might have been trying to placate a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum. "But you--"

Neku picked up his foot, started to step over the painted lines--

--There was a sharp _crack, _and he heard himself yell, and then he was flat on his back on the floor, blinking stars from his eyes and shuddering at the memory of a very brief instant of very bad pain.

Joshua cleared his throat. "Never mind."

Neku stared dazedly up at the vaulted ceiling, only dimly visible on the edges of the room's weird ambient light. Maybe, he thought, this was all just another too-vivid nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up shortly, find himself back in his room, and would be able to chalk the whole thing up to the aftereffects of an incredibly stressful month.

Maybe, while he was at it, he'd win ten million yen in some contest he didn't know he'd entered. And would find a message on his cell phone informing him that Joshua had gone on vacation to someplace far, far, _far _away -- possibly back to whatever damn planet he'd come from, because Neku was seriously beginning to doubt he was from this one -- and had liked it so well there that he was never coming back.

Yeah. Maybe.

After a minute or two, Joshua said mildly, "Would you like a hand getting up?"

"No. No, actually I'm kinda comfortable here, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

Grimacing, Neku shifted position enough to fold his arms behind his head. The floor really wasn't too bad. It was possible that after so many mornings spent waking up on the pavement of Scramble Crossing, _anything_ else seemed good by comparison.

Another minute or so went by before Joshua said, "I did _try _to warn you, Neku. The barrier there is one way. Getting out's rather more difficult than getting in."

"I see."

"Happily, there is another route out which you'll be able to take. I haven't trapped you here."

"Glad to hear it."

Another minute.

"So," Joshua said at last.

"So what?"

"Are you quite finished sulking and throwing a snit, or do you need a cookie and a pat on the head to make you feel better?"

Neku drew a deep, weary breath. "You really can't give it a rest, can you? You just can't."

"Shall I take that as a 'no'on both counts?"

"Sure. You do that."

"Fine."

More silence. There were patterns on the ceiling, Neku noticed as he gazed up into the gloom. At least, he thought they were patterns, not just light and shadows playing tricks on his eyes. They were hard to see, dark grey on black, but they were there.

"You know," Joshua said eventually, "most people about to be hit with serious trouble would be grateful for some warning, Neku."

Neku breathed a silent, humorless laugh. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"You _are _sulking."

"No. No, I'm not. There is just really nothing that I can say to this situation, Josh, that's not going to end with you telling me to shut up and pay attention. I _have _been paying attention. I'm in danger. The city's in danger. Fine. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what you're actually afterwith all this."

"What happened to _trust your partner_, Neku?"

"If you would actually _act _like we were partners for once, I might."

"Neku," reprovingly, "I am the C--"

"Composer. Yeah. I'm kind of aware of that by now, thanks."

"Yes, well, if you would actually act--" Joshua began meaningfully, but Neku interrupted him again.

"Josh, just tell me what the fucking hell you want from me, or let me go so I can go stand on a street corner and shout 'Run for the hills, the end is coming' at everybody I see."

"That attitude's getting you nowhere, Neku."

"Yeah, well, neither is yours." Neku shut his eyes with an air of finality. "Look, just wake me up when you've gotten to the point, will you?"

There was a very long, very dangerous pause, and then Joshua said, in an bright, amiable tone that was very, very obviously false, "Let's try this again, shall we? I wouldn't say this conversation is going nowhere, but it _is, _I think,heading for places which would perhaps be best put off for another day."

Neku waited, eyes still closed, and said nothing.

More silence.

"Fine," Joshua said at last, suddenly neutral. "Neku, I... could use some help here."

_And if you'd admitted that a half an hour ago, you idiot... _Neku nodded, very slowly. "You don't say," he said in equally neutral tones. "So what's the story? The _whole _story."

"The whole story." There was a soft laugh, followed by a sigh, and Joshua, when he spoke again, sounded a lot less his usual self and a lot more tired. "Sanae tried to kill me, Neku."

The inward triumph at finally winning some sort of concession from Shibuya's arrogant Composer died as quickly as it had come to life, replaced by a cold, sick knot in Neku's stomach. He opened his eyes, sat up to turn and give Joshua a disbelieving stare, but there was no faint smirk on the Composer's face this time, no evil glint in his eyes suggesting that this was another of his inappropriate ideas of a joke. Only weary honesty.

"He..." Neku swallowed, thinking that he must have heard wrong. "He what?"

"You wanted to know how he became Fallen? As I told you before," Joshua said quietly, "he was trying to protect Shibuya. He tried to talk me out of my wager with Megumi. I didn't listen. He took what steps he thought were necessary."

"But--"

Joshua's face was set, expressionless. "It was nothing personal; I don't hold it against him. But he broke some of the highest laws that angels are bound to follow, and--" A barely detectable note of strain entered his voice. "They -- wanted to take him away."

Joshua's voice was still level and almost devoid of emotion, but somehow there was a weirdly childish sound to that last. Neku found himself remembering the day Joshua had first tricked him into visiting WildKat Café, and remembering the conversation he'd had when he had cautiously broached the subject of his second partner with the café owner.

_"See, he's a little special. He... sees things," _Mr. H had said. _"He saw Players and Reapers and all when he was still alive -- and when he wanted to talk about it, he came to me. There aren't many folks who'd listen, if you know what I mean. In a way," _and the man had grimaced ruefully, _"he's been alone all his life."_

After learning who and what Joshua really was, Neku had dismissed just about everything that had been said and done, that week, as nothing more than lies, but watching the Composer's face now he had to wonder if to that, at least, there might have been some grain of truth. _Come to think of it, he _must _have been alive once, huh? _

One way or another, Mr. Hanekoma had been the one person Neku had met who had actually genuinely seemed to _like _Joshua. And even for an angel, that... that probably took some work.

Joshua went on, interrupting Neku's thoughts. "Of course, I'm already down a Conductor; I don't need to deal with a replacement Producer, too. So I told them -- very politely -- that I wasn't handing him over."

"And how did that go over?" Neku asked cautiously, biting back the observation that the present lack of a Conductor was entirely Joshua's own dumb fault.

"Ah." Joshua paused. When he spoke again, his tone was not exactly embarrassed -- Neku had trouble imagining Joshua being embarrassed about anything -- but there was a faint, rueful note to it that suggested that just about anyone else, in the same circumstances, would be feeling more than a little sheepish. "Well, I'm slightly under arrest at the moment. If that gives you some idea."

Deep breath. "_Slightly... _under... arrest."

"That's what I said."

"I heard you. How are you--"

"It's mainly a question of semantics and social niceties. The higher-ups don't like to involve themselves in the UG directly. They'll sit back and watch, but a lot of them feel that getting close up and personal is beneath them. Sanae's always been an exception to that, of course; most Producers have to be, to some extent, but they're in the minority. The rest, when they _do _have to interfere, try to be very quiet about it."

"Erasing Shibuya is considered _quiet?_"

"Well, that's a special situation. Trying to stop reality from collapsing, and all. Whereas a rebellious Composer is... ah..." Joshua coughed. "More an inconvenience, as far as they're concerned, than an outright disaster."

"Joshua--"

"Here's the thing," Joshua said quietly. "When they do interfere, they like to work within the rules, you see. And unfortunately, Sanae's assassination attempt -- however well-meant -- may have given them a way to do that."

Neku waited in silence.

"They're not too happy with me at present. It's not just the question of harboring a fallen angel -- although that alone would be enough for them to kick up quite a fuss and I doubt they would be bothering so much with everything else, otherwise. Some of them feel I overstepped my limits in last month's Games."

_Aww, is murdering people frowned upon? You poor thing._

"And although Sanae was, theoretically, working _against _me, certain things that he did... did indirectly affect the outcome. Ironically, had he not betrayed me, things might have gone quite differently. I won't say I would have _lost, _but he did change things, from well outside the rules. Which, technically--"

Joshua drew a deep breath, and Neku had a strong suspicion that he wasn't going to like whatever came next. If _Joshua _had to stop and steel himself before spitting it out, it couldn't be good.

Before Joshua could continue, however, a new voice spoke, from somewhere in the darkness behind the throne.

"Which _technically_ gives Us the right, Composer, to declare the Game's results invalid."

Neku saw Joshua freeze, violet eyes widening slightly in the closest thing to real shock that Neku, in their brief -- yet still entirely too long -- acquaintance, had ever seen on his face. Neku himself spun, and found himself staring at someone very like the being from the nightmare he'd had. _There, _but not quite possible to focus on. The effect was not quite as frightening as it had been in his dream, but it was a hell of a lot more annoying, and made his vision blur when he tried to see the being properly.

The being ignored Neku entirely as it went on, its voice musical but cold: "The Fallen was right. You anticipate your opponents' moves rather well, for one whose senses are so limited. Your disdain for even the simplest rules, however, does not stand you in good stead." It nodded at the lines painted on the floor. "They were some clever additions the Fallen one made to your prison -- and largely of your design, I believe, not his -- but did you honestly believe We would not spot them?"

Joshua had by now recovered from the split second of uncertainty, but definite irritation showed on his face. "I'll admit I had hoped it would take you longer. What have you done with Sanae?"

"He is in custody. He is, right now, not your concern."

Joshua's expression became dangerously cross at this, but after a pause he said only, mildly, "So you do intend one more Game, then."

"Indeed, Composer," the being told him calmly. "A rematch. With Shibuya as your opponent's fee -- as it should have been last time -- which will nicely avoid the issue of what to do with it."

"I thought so." A faint smile crossed Joshua's face. "Neatly done -- and all without getting your hands dirty. If I win, Shibuya will effectively have been destroyed, and if I lose, it will have a new Composer -- one _you_ believe will be better capable of fixing the city's problems. And more cooperative, yes?"

The being inclined its head slightly. Joshua's smile became a faintly mischevious grin. "I might want to warn you against that last. Personally, I've found he doesn't take orders very well."

Neku was still listening to all of this in horrified bewilderment, but it was not until the amused violet gaze turned to settle on him that the last sentence clicked into place. "W... wait. No. What? _No. _Um, I think there's some mista--"

Joshua's voice was quiet. "You were wondering, Neku, why you didn't take that shot? Looks like you may shortly be getting all _kinds _of second chances. Unless, of course," and the cool stare flicked away from him, landed on the strange, indistinct form of what Neku could only assume was one of the higher-ups, "I've misunderstood your intentions? I would assume you're not dragging poor Megumi back from the great beyond for this. He was a good enough Conductor, but he would make a very poor Composer."

"No, Composer. You are quite correct." And now, at last, the being turned its head, acknowledging Neku's presence for the first time. "We have no intention, Mr. Sakuraba, of forcing your hand. What unbalance exists in Shibuya does not require immediate action. The Game will begin in one week's time." The figure shrugged. "You will be contacted with specifics at a later date. I suggest you think things over very carefully before then."

And then there was light, and then the being was gone. For a moment, Neku could only stare in stunned silence at the spot where it had stood. Then, very slowly, he turned to Joshua. "Uh. Josh?"

"Yes, Neku?"

There were so many things to say, questions to ask, profanities to shout that he didn't even know where to begin, but somewhere from out of the chaos of total mental breakdown, words arose. "You know that thing you were saying before. Quis custa... whatever. Who watches the watchers."

"_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes._" And at a time like this, only Joshua, Neku thought, would take the time to correct another person's pronunciation of a dead language that said other person didn't even speak. "Yes, Neku."

"If they're watching _you _to make sure you don't go overboard..." Neku swallowed, aware that his voice was shaking a little bit. "Um. Who's watching them to make sure _they're _not, you know, completely freaking batshit insane?"

"Ah, well." Joshua's smile was more than a little grim. "That, my dear Neku, is the real question, isn't it?"

* * *

A/N: Aack, this is another one that had far too many drafts. I did make an effort to stop Joshua and Neku from the constant bickering, but eventually concluded it wasn't happening. Hopefully they've gotten most of it out of their systems for the moment and things will be able to move forward a little more smoothly -- albeit probably in a direction that neither one of them likes very much.

One week and counting to the start of exams, so I doubt I can get the next chapter up before then. But once I'm past those and back to a regular school schedule I should be able to get into a more efficient writing schedule as well. Meanwhile, reviews are always welcome. :)


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